He held still, his hands resting on her hips, his eyes closed. His tongue mated with hers, but nothing else on him moved but for the not-so-steady rise and fall of his chest under her palms and his wildly beating heart. The deeper the kiss, the more sanity escaped her, but sanity was highly overrated anyway.
Mac raised her head and studied his strong features. His incredibly long lashes feathered across his cheekbones. His eyes opened, deceptively lazy yet alert.
“Make love to me, Mac,” he whispered as the words flitted off in the breeze, carried on an angel’s wings like a promise given and a promise received.
Mac raised her hips and lowered herself back down on his waiting cock. Bruiser watched with hooded eyes. She sheathed him inside her, deeper and deeper until her crotch pressed against his. Hands braced on his shoulders, she threw back her head and closed her eyes, savoring the fullness of him, the hardness held inside her wet softness. She changed the angle of her hips to feel him higher inside her and wiggled on top of him, only to draw a guttural groan from the man.
He gripped her hips and raised her up, then slowly lowering her back down, continuing the erotic, slow torture until their last shreds of sanity were obliterated by one final deep, eternal thrust that bound them together in ways neither could imagine or prevent.
Bruiser’s body convulsed with hers as their releases came in pulses of pleasure, wringing every last bit of energy from them until she collapsed against him, body to body, soul to soul, heart to heart.
Bruiser filled in all her missing puzzle pieces, those empty spots waiting for the right person to come along and complete the beautiful picture hidden in all the bits of joy and tragedy that make up a life.
Now that she’d found those missing pieces, Mac didn’t want to give them up.
Chapter 19—Back and Forth
Elliot glanced up at Mac and Bruiser. They’d rescued him for the evening from the “Hippos”—his secret name for his aunt and uncle. He didn’t really care that they were both grossly overweight, but he did care that they were hypocrites, parading him out when guests came over to illustrate what good people they were to take in this hideously scarred orphan.
That’s what he heard them call him when they thought he’d gone to bed.
Bruiser told him that appearances didn’t matter to good people, so Elliot figured that ruled out the Hippos as good people. Aunt Ruth couldn’t even look at him. When she talked to him, she stared at the floor or over his head.
Mac and Bruiser looked at him with love, not horror or pity. They also really looked at each other, thinking he probably wouldn’t notice. They’d been giving each other looks all night long. Obviously, they were hot for each other, not that he had much personal experience with stuff like that.
Before the crash, he’d preferred books and gaming to girls. Now girls screamed and ran away when they saw him, and his burned fingers made it hard to play video games.
After dinner, they played Monopoly. He hadn’t played it since his parents were gone. It was tough at first, but Mac and Bruiser made it fun. Elliot bought Boardwalk and Park Place and filled them with hotels. Mac landed on Park Place, and Bruiser landed on Broadway. It was all over after that. Moneybags Elliot, as they called him, kicked their butts. He was still gloating about that.
The clock ticked closer to nine o’clock, when he had to return to his aunt and uncle’s house. His stomach cramped up. Really bad. He must have eaten some rotten pizza or something. Maybe they’d let him stay here if he didn’t feel like a car ride.
Elliot hated his cousins’ pitying stares, his uncle’s indifference, and his aunt’s open dislike of him. As far as he could tell, the only reason they had him around was to be their errand boy.
Get me this, Elliot. Get me that, Elliot. Feed the cat, Elliot. Put the dishes in the dishwasher. Elliot, don’t go outside and play, you scare the neighbors’ little girls.
Bruiser stood up and smiled one of those fake smiles, and Elliot’s stomach went into convulsions, or at least it felt like that. “Hey, buddy, it’s time to get you back home.”
“Can’t I stay here?” Elliot hated begging, but he did it anyway.
“Sorry, buddy, we have to get you back just like we promised.” Bruiser didn’t want to take him back. Elliot could tell. So why did he have to do it? Bruiser could do anything. He was like a superhero. Why couldn’t he do this if he wanted to?
Because he doesn’t want to?
Elliot lashed out. “I hate it there. They don’t want me, and I don’t want them. Besides, I don’t feel good.” Elliot held his stomach and rocked back and forth on the couch, wailing and moaning like he’d seen the kid do on Two and a Half Men reruns.
A quick look passed between Mac and Bruiser, but Elliot couldn’t figure out what the heck they were trying to tell each other without speaking the words. Maybe he’d overdone the stomachache, because they didn’t seem to be overly concerned, and they were usually the concerned type. Maybe too much moaning and wailing. It’d worked on TV.
“We’ll do something after the game on Sunday. Mac’s going to pick you up. You can watch in the suite with her.”
“That’s five days away.” He didn’t like football much, but he liked being with Mac and Bruiser and all of Bruiser’s teammates, especially Tyler. Tyler slipped him really awesome gourmet chocolates when no one was watching.
“Yeah, I know. But hang in there. The
